


Home - Eliot's Story

by there_are_no_strangers



Category: Leverage
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 13:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17387054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/there_are_no_strangers/pseuds/there_are_no_strangers





	Home - Eliot's Story

Eliot stood on the front porch, his hand suspended over the door, debating whether to knock. He lowered his arm, gently rubbing the three broken ribs on his right side, then leaned back against the decorative oak column, exhaling deeply. This had seemed like a good idea 38 hours ago. But now, even with a combination of no sleep and sheer exhaustion, both mental and physical, he could still think clearly enough to know that Aimee may just slam the door in his face. And he wouldn’t blame her. He’d put her through enough, too much, to ever think she’d forgive him and maybe even take him . . . well he couldn’t think about things that were never gonna happen. Especially now when he needed to see her so bad, needed her comforting touch so bad, he couldn’t start feeling guilty again or he would turn now and walk away. Again.

Eliot heard noises from the kitchen in the rear of the house. He hoped Aimee was alone, it hadn’t occurred to him what he would do if she wasn’t. Creeping towards the kitchen window, he made sure to stay in the shadows close to the house. The last thing he needed was for her to call out the Sheriff thinking he was an intruder. He limped around the shrubs, wincing at the ache that surged through his body. He was having second thoughts about coming. Maybe he should have stayed in Portland and let Sophie hover like she usually did. It had been a rough job that had taken its toll on everyone, he knew he could count on his team but lately there was something missing. Another reason for the visit home.

He reached the window and peered in just in time to see Aimee tilting her neck to the side, stroking her hand along the length, eyes closed, and lips pulled taut. He let out a deep breath. Even when she was so obviously tired she was absolutely beautiful. His fingers ached to touch her, run them through her silky long red hair. He let out a soft curse and turned and made his way back to the front porch before he lost his nerve.

Eliot knocked on the door and stepped back, his thoughts now racing. He waited, counting in his head, a habit he had picked up in his days in the military. It centered him and kept him calm in sticky situations. He didn’t usually need to resort to it with women. But Aimee wasn’t like other women. She threw him off balance, and he felt like he was always one step behind. When he reached the count of sixty he frowned. She was inside the house, why wasn’t she answering the door? Did she know he was on the other side? Oh, hell no, he didn’t drive this far to be shut out on the front porch. He knocked again, harder this time then shoved his hands into the pocket of his jeans.

Aimee opened the door, slightly breathless, and Eliot caught one glance at her before he had to look away, too tired for the inevitable fight she would start. She stood in the doorway, her hair falling in soft waves against a worn blue and white flannel shirt while denim jeans hugged the gentle curves of her hips and thighs then flared at the floor to expose her bare feet against the oak floors. For a second, he forgot to breathe. Then he heard his name, soft and low rolling off of her lips. “Eliot.”

He avoided eye contact, afraid of her reaction to his sudden and unexpected presence. But he needed her, he couldn’t deny that. “Can I come in?” He spoke in his gruff hitter’s voice in an attempt to remain in control, of himself, of the situation. He shifted his eyes up just in time to see her head nod ever so slightly, her lips parted in disbelief.

Eliot made his way through the house into the living room, noting that not much had changed since his last visit. Certainly not her tone, which had shifted from its earlier dazed state. “What the hell, Eliot, are you gonna sit or what?” She nodded to the flowered sofa behind him. “I’m not picking your ass up if you pass out.” Hands on her hips, hazel eyes blazing. This was the Aimee he expected. He thought for a moment she might take pity on him, his black eye, broken ribs, bruised knuckles might soften her a little. But no, she was still the hard-ass, stubborn fiery red-head he had grown to love. It wasn’t worth fighting her at this point, he was dead on his feet and he needed her more than he needed to prove a point. He sank into the sofa, welcoming the relief provided by the overstuffed cushions.

“I just made myself some tea, I suppose you could use something stronger?” Her tone softened slightly and Eliot tried to focus on what she was saying, but all he could see were Aimee’s lips, pink and ripe and very kissable. He ended up just nodding in agreement, hoping to God whatever it was, he hadn’t just promised something impossible. Again.

Eliot laid his head against the sofa cushion, fighting to keep his eyes open. He heard the sound of glasses clinking together in the kitchen and imagined Aimee, padding barefoot on the floor, moving around the kitchen, imagined himself in the kitchen. He drifted back to the last time he was in this house. Before she was married to someone else, when they still had a future. Then he drifted away completely.

Eliot felt movement next to him and snapped to attention. “I’m awake.” He remembered now, he was at Aimee’s house, he smelled her strawberry shampoo, and a hint of whiskey. It was strangely comforting.

He heard her voice vaguely trying to reassure him and felt her hands on his head, tried to brush them away. She pulled him towards her, trying to get him to lay down on the sofa, but he struggled against her. “Oh, settle down Eliot, I’m not gonna hurt you. As much as I’d like to sometimes. Right now, you need to relax and sleep. And I promise you’re safe. Just stop being a stubborn ass and let me help you.”

Eliot stopped struggling and gave in to Aimee, let her guide his head down to nestle in her lap, the feeling of her fingers in his hair sending warm waves crashing through his chest. She used to do this in high school, sometimes he got headaches from football, but she would do something with her nails. Now he remembered. “Fingernails.” She remembered too, apparently, as the tips of her fingers scraped gently against his scalp. The addition created an unexpected moan to escape from his lips. Suddenly he didn’t care about control. He burrowed closer to her. “Aimee, don’t stop.”

As he drifted off he thought that this must be what a real home felt like.


End file.
